


Cookie Dough

by spikewriter



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-15
Updated: 2003-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikewriter/pseuds/spikewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookie Dough

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in June 2003 before any information had leaked as to how Spike was going to make his return from dead and be integrated into Angel's world. Therefore, certain details of this story do not jibe with the reality we see on the show. Let's just call it an alternate universe that might have been.

She didn't really understand how he came back. Oh, Angel offered an explanation -- something about a prophecy -- but it basically went in one ear and out the other after she heard the words, "Spike's alive."

Buffy and the surviving Scoobies had been in Cleveland almost four months when the phone call came, fighting run-of-the-mill vampires and trying to figure out what to do next with their lives while Giles tried to get the new Council organized. When Willow said it was Angel on the phone from Los Angeles, Buffy had almost told her to say she was asleep or something. They'd talked briefly in that first twenty-four hours after the final battle, letting him know the second front wasn't going to be necessary, but reminders of the old days hurt too much at the moment to want more than just a casual conversation.

However, the telephone had never been one of Angel's favorite forms of communications, so she'd taken the call on the grounds that it might be serious. He'd rambled a bit at first, dodging around the point in that somewhat infuriating way of his. Only when she'd asked point blank did he finally get to the meat of the issue.

She caught the first plane out of Cleveland she could, a five hour flight that felt like it stretched on for five days. Wesley picked her up at LAX, harder and grimmer than she remembered from when they'd first met in Sunnydale a lifetime ago. He was very quiet on the drive to the new offices, saying it would be best if Angel gave her the details.

Stepping inside the glass and steel building, Buffy realized explanations were needed for more than just Spike's return. Smartly-clad business types acknowledged Wesley as he passed, their deference showing he was respected within the organization...or at least someone people felt they had to suck up to.

Their destination was an office on an upper floor that commanded an impressive view of Los Angeles through large glass windows, windows Angel stood in front of without turning into vampire flambé. Even that detail was pushed to the back of her mind as she realized she was almost to the end of her journey. A few words of greeting and then a single question: "Where?"

Angel didn't look happy, but then she didn't imagine he would. She did love him; always would. In a different time and place, she would want nothing more than to spend her life with him. But she'd also been lying to herself when she'd hedged on the nature of her relationship with Spike, unwilling to take that final step until it was too late.

Angel dispatched Wesley to fetch him. "He's been back several months." Angel said. "We probably should have called you sooner, but we felt... _he_ felt it was better to wait until we'd figured some things out."

She found her mouth dry and nodded instead of trying to speak. He was different. That had to be it, the reason why he hadn't wanted to let her know at first because she couldn't see anything getting between Spike and something he wanted. And he hadn't wanted to tell her.

Then the door opened and Wesley walked back in followed by a man that, at first glance, seemed like yet another of those business types she'd seen downstairs. The moment she caught a glimpse of blue eyes, however, she knew. She moved without thinking, never doubting that he'd open his arms to her. His embrace was solid and real, the first tangible evidence that he hadn't disappeared forever in the Hellmouth.

Then she slapped him on the arm. "What do you mean, I don't? I'm _finally_ admitting it and you think I don't mean what I say?"

Spike laughed, a sound that wrapped about her like a comforting blanket. She couldn't stay mad at him with that sound and slid her hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer. It was a different kiss than what she'd known with him before: soft, gentle, warm...

Warm?

It had been a while since she'd kissed Spike, but not so long that Buffy didn't notice the difference in body temperature. She pulled back abruptly, wondering what else was different. "What...?"

"I'm human," he said softly, reaching up to touch her face. A warm touch, new and yet familiar. "Human...and something more. Part of some damn prophecy you and I knew nothing about."

Buffy blinked, trying to wrap her mind around what he was saying. Spike. Not just alive, but human. Tentatively, she stretched out her hand and laid it on his chest, felt the beat of a heart. "How?"

Wesley stepped in with an explanation of the Shanshu prophecy, most of which Buffy didn't hear or understand. What she did understand was that Spike had helped save the world and received a new life as his reward. Only when Wesley finished did Buffy manage to look away from Spike to ask the question, "But why here? Of all the places in the world he could reappear, why here?"

"Because Wolfram and Hart provided the amulet I gave you in Sunnydale," Angel said. "They'd set everything up for the resurrection, so Spike appeared here in our offices."

Good feelings came screeching to a halt. The evil lawyers Angel worked with (and she still didn't understand that) had known what would happen...and if she'd let Angel wear the amulet as he'd intended, it would have been him who was standing there human.

"When we first heard of the Shanshu prophecy," Wesley said quietly, "we assumed that the vampire with the soul meant Angel. We had no idea there would ever be another...or that he would voluntarily seek his soul."

Much of the tension Buffy had felt when she walked in was suddenly clear. This wasn't just the usual Spike and Angel jealous vampire crap; how long had Angel been hoping for that Shanshu, wondering if it might mean the two of them...?

Spike's hands were suddenly under her elbows, keeping her from falling as her knees gave out. "And when was the last time you ate?" he asked as he settled her in a chair, kneeling before her.

"It's not the food, it's..." She looked up at him, wondering if what she was going ask would hurt, knowing she had to do it. "Can I talk to Angel alone for a few minutes?"

He considered her for a long moment, then pressed a kiss to her forehead and rose. The others seemed to take their cue from him and filed out, leaving Buffy alone in the room with one incredibly broody vampire.

Vampire. Souled, but still cursed. And that was the problem wasn't it? Their relationship was never going to be resolved because of the curse and the fact that what he was wasn't going to change. It might have, but she'd sent him back to LA to build a second front and handed the amulet to Spike.

Or was this sans-shoe thing or however the hell it was pronounced related to the fact Spike the demon went searching for his soul while Angelus had been cursed? They'd never know. That's how it went with prophecies; you never knew exactly what it was that triggered one.

The thoughts flashed through her mind in a second as she stared at Angel across an expanse of thick plush carpet that just was so not him. "Have you considered getting in a decorator? Someone who isn't into early corporate"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's why you asked everyone else to leave? Because you wanted to criticize my décor?"

She felt her cheeks grow warm. "I'm sorry. I just...I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have sent you back to Los Angeles. Maybe I should have had you there."

Angel shook his head. "You made the decision you had to make. When I first heard about the 'sinkhole' that swallowed Sunnydale, I was busy making preparations until you called and let me know what had happened. I really thought we were going to need that second front."

"And this was it?" Buffy looked around. God, her dad would kill for an office like this. "This is your second front?"

He came to sit by her. "There's been a few changes you don't know about."

The story he told her was sketchy, but apparently there'd been dueling apocalypses this year, culminating with Angel Investigations saving the world from some thing from another dimension and taking control of the resources of the evil law firm. They'd suffered their own losses: fractured friendships and Cordelia deep in a mystical coma from which she might never awake. None of them were getting out of this unscathed.

Angel finished his tale and they sat in silence. Buffy wasn't sure what to say or how to react. That Spike was alive and well was wonderful; she couldn't put into words the way her heart had leapt when she heard the news. But that same heart was aching at this moment with thoughts of what might have been. For so long, she had dreamed of a day when she and Angel could be together, even if she'd dismissed those dreams along with those of a white picket fence, family and children.

But against all odds, a family and something resembling a normal life was no longer completely out of reach. Giles had already spoken to her about the idea of doing less of the hands-on slaying, wanting her to be around to help ensure the new slayers weren't treated as she and Faith had been. Weary and grieving, she hadn't protested too hard, figuring it would give her time to bake or mix or whatever her stupid cookie dough analogy meant.

"I imagine you'll probably want Spike to go back to Cleveland with you," Angel was saying quietly. "How soon are you planning on leaving?"

"Leaving?" The words brought her attention firmly back to the here and now. "You want to get rid of me so quickly?"

"I hate to say it, but watching you and Spike together is not my idea of heaven on earth."

"What makes you assume Spike and I are together?"

He laughed. Yeah, no bitterness there. "I saw the look on your face when you saw him, Buffy. You used to look at me like that. Besides, he's human, living and breathing. He can give you all the things you deserve. The Powers that Be have given you a second chance; don't waste it."

Damn it, he was being noble again, making decisions on her behalf. She wanted to get angry with him, tell him how much it pissed her off, but stopped. A fight wouldn't do any good at the moment and she'd only walk away mad...and she'd walk away, which was what he wanted because he wanted her to have a happy life. It was even kind of sweet, in an overbearing, male chauvinistic way.

"Don't you think I should discuss that with Spike?" she said instead, her voice surprisingly calm. "I've only said about two words to him and, well, I don't think we're ready to go riding off into the sunset quite yet."

A glint of hope flashed in Angel's eyes. "Does that mean..."

Buffy offered him a bit of a smile, not wanting to have this conversation at this moment. "Still baking. Like I said, I won't be done for a while."

Angel rose and headed for his desk, fumbling in one of the drawers for something. "They gave me all these damn keys..." Retrieving keys and something else, he returned, pressing both objects into her hands. "Go. Talk with Spike. There's a car in the garage downstairs you can use; the attendant will know which one. Have lunch. Spend some time together. Charge it to Wolfram and Hart."

He seemed happier now, almost giddy (or as giddy as Angel ever appeared), which made her wonder what he thought she was going to say to Spike. Still, she took the keys and thanked Angel, telling him she'd see him later. As she reached door, he called after her, "Tell Spike there'd better not be any scratches on the car when he gets back."

Spike was waiting for her outside Angel's office, ignoring the glares from the woman who sat behind the desk beside the door. He lifted an eyebrow expectantly, but said nothing, leaving the ball in her court. Wesley hovered a short distance away with several others, doing his best not to look as if he was watching every move.

"Want to go talk?" she asked, holding up both keys and credit card. Spike grinned and levered himself off the sleek leather couch, moving with the grace she remembered. They headed for the elevators, grabbing the first one that stopped despite the fact it was going up, not down.

"Fred kept coming over to offer sympathy," he said as they rose, loosening the tie he wore. "Sweet girl, but I was about ready to strangle her."

"Fred?"

"One of Angel's crew. She was with Wesley. The man's named Gunn, the demon is Lorne. They've been...nice."

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Several people started to step on, took one look at Spike and stepped back. "Nice to know I still scare some people."

Buffy slid her arm through his as they began to descend toward the garage level. She could hear the strain in his voice and knew it had been difficult. "Were you...before you came back...was it...?"

"Where you were?" He shook his head. "The memories are all fuzzy, fuzzier than they were for you. Yeah, it might have been heaven, but I wasn't there long and I don't actually feel like I was ripped out. Having a heartbeat again is a touch scary, though."

They rode in silence, the doors opening onto a garage that looked much like any other garage inside an office building. An attendant was waiting to step forward and take the key, informing them "Mr. Angel" had called ahead to say they were coming. Spike didn't say a word, just a nod of the head as the attendant took the keys.

Supposedly formerly evil law firms must pay pretty well, because the car was a sleek black Mercedes convertible polished to a shine one usually only saw in car commercials. Spike tossed jacket and tie in the back seat before sliding behind the wheel. Buffy considered reminding him that she had finally learned to drive in that last year in Sunnydale, but she didn't feel like ruining the moment. Instead, she slipped into the passenger's seat, buckled up and held on as he tore out of the parking garage.

Proving he'd lost none of his insane driving skills, Spike maneuvered the car through the traffic of downtown Los Angeles and onto the freeway in a generally western direction. Buffy just let him drive for a while, taking in the sight of Spike in full sunlight. Somewhere, he'd acquired a slight tan, just a hint of color, which made his hair look even paler, almost pure white with the barest trace of blonde. Was he still bleaching it? He must be; she couldn't see a trace of darker roots.

They hadn't said much to one another by the time he exited the freeway. "Were you fancying anything in particular, pet?" he asked, turning onto Santa Monica Boulevard. "Should have asked before I dragged you down here. That piece of plastic Angel handed you will guarantee us service just about anywhere you'd like."

Was it her imagination or was there a hint of aggravation in his voice, some irritation he didn't want to share? She was about to say she didn't want food, she wanted to talk, when her stomach made a rather loud, complaining noise. By the grin on his face, Spike's hearing still worked just fine. "Did you have someplace in mind? Must be a reason you headed this direction."

She was a bit surprised when he proposed a picnic, but the weather was certainly nice for it. Trying to remember the last time she'd been on one, Buffy agreed, curious to see what he had in mind.

Chinese take-out wasn't exactly what she thought of when she thought 'picnic,' but the selection of dim-sum Spike ordered up to go (and insisted on paying for himself) looked tantalizing as they opened the white cardboard containers after he'd spread the blanket he'd stopped to buy along the way. Sitting on the swath of green grass that grew between the promenade and the beach brought back memories she thought long forgotten. "I used to come down here with my friends," she told him. "We'd hang out, shop, look for bargains. Seems like a lifetime ago."

"I can't see Joyce letting you run wild through the madness that goes on here weekends at, what, fifteen?"

"Oh, she came along and chaperoned. I guess she didn't think fourteen was old enough. By the time I was fifteen..." The warm feeling faded slightly. "I'd been Called by then, so I wasn't hanging out with my friends much at that point."

She looked away, out toward the ocean. She'd told herself she wasn't going to dwell on regrets and should-haves, but it was suddenly hard. Spike had been one of those regrets and now here he was.

A touch on her hand and she looked back to find him watching her in that familiar way, head tilted to one side and blue eyes filled with concern. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Just haven't thought about those days in a long time."

"Are you sure?"

He wasn't going to let her avoid the issue and she smiled as she squeezed his hand. "At the moment, everything is just fine."

They ate leisurely as he asked after everyone, clearly curious to fill in the pieces he was missing from their final battle. She gave him the count of the dead and now it was her turn to hold onto his hand as he turned away, registering Anya's loss. "Demon-girl was annoying as hell, but she had a good heart," he managed. "How's Harris holding up?"

"Coping," she said. "It's hard sometimes, but...he's handling it a little better now than he has been."

That turned the conversation to the survivors. Buffy told him about Cleveland and how Giles was working to rebuild the Council into something "that might actually be bloody useful for once in its existence." About how Giles was easing her out of the day to day work of slaying, wanting her to be part of the Council itself, a voice for the Slayers."

He listened and nodded and she found herself wondering how Spike would fit into all of this. She and Giles had taken steps to resolve the issues between them, but she knew that for all he admitted he was sorry now he'd aided in Wood's attempt to kill Spike, he was glad the vampire wasn't with them anymore.

No, not vampire. Not when he could walk in the sunlight and picnic with her by the beach, when there was a heartbeat and the warmth of his skin wasn't something he acquired from snuggling up to her. "You haven't told me what happened," she said. "I got a little of it in the office, but I want to know what happened after I left the cavern."

She could see he didn't want to speak of it and she couldn't blame him; she remembered how hard it had been after she'd come back. But she also felt a desperate need to know how this had all happened.

A bit reluctantly, he told her how his soul had seemed to expand, providing the power for the amulet to destroy the Turok-Han, how his body had fallen to dust and he'd found himself...somewhere. The bits and pieces he remembered tallied with her own memories and that made her smile. "Then, there was pain and I was suddenly awake in this white room with a gorgeous -- and very disappointed -- woman glaring down at me. Seems the evil lawyers had intended Angel to wear the amulet and be the one waking up there; they weren't at all happy to see me. See, they hadn't counted on you sending Angel back to LA and there being another souled vampire to wear that ugly trinket. Kept complaining about cosmic wild cards. Probably wouldn't have told Angel I was there, except your phone call tipped him off that something was up so he sniffed around and found me."

"Why didn't you call?" she asked quietly, rubbing a finger along the back of his hand. The food was long gone and they were sitting next to each other, bodies close enough to touch.

"Didn't know where you were at first. Hell, didn't really know where I was the first week or so. It was a somewhat disorienting experience, as you might remember. Add in a heartbeat, which was about to driving me crazy the first couple of days because I could hear it...turns out I still have the strength and the senses pretty much. They're a bit muted, but it's there. Have the healing, too. Got a nasty slice while we were cleaning out a nest a month back and it healed up right quick. So I'm human...and I'm not. Still trying to figure out what I am and why I'm back. That's why I didn't call."

"Why did Angel call?"

"We had a fight, a bit worse than normal. I said some things about him making decisions for other people, not consulting their feelings and he said that's what I was doing with not calling you, that you'd been broken up about my death and I was hurting you by not letting you know I was alive and if I wasn't going to call you, he would." Spike shook his head. "I didn't think he'd actually do it when I dared him to."

"So you didn't want me to know." For some strange reason, she wasn't as angry about it as she thought she'd be.

"Didn't think I could tell you until I figured out a bit more about what was going on. There's got to be a reason I was brought back. This isn't like Willow performing her spell with you; this whole coming back alive thing was part and parcel of this amulet and there are apparently a whole bunch of prophecies that relate to it. Wesley and I are still trying to figure it all out."

She slipped her arm through his and let her head rest on his shoulder. "When Angel came to Sunnydale, he gave me grief about you, about the fact I cared for you."

"Sounds like the Poof," Spike said with a snort.

She ignored the comment. "I told him I wasn't ready to commit to anyone, that I was like cookie dough and I wasn't finished baking yet. I'd be finished someday and that's when I'd be ready for someone. Until then..."

It was still a lame analogy, but Spike didn't laugh. Instead, he was silent for a long moment, then softly replied, "Me, too."

They sat silently together, looking out toward the ocean. She asked if he'd come with her and he said no, just as she expected him too. She couldn't be mad at him about it, either, because this wasn't him blowing her off or making a decision on her behalf. He needed to be here for himself, to find out why he'd come back.

She looked down and discovered their fingers had twined about each other just as they had in those last moments beneath the school. It felt natural and good like this, as if this was how it should be.

But there were slayers to train and a council to reform and prophecies Spike didn't understand. "I can stay a few days," she said, trying to figure out how long she could drag it out.

"That'd be nice. In theory, I'm supposed to get vacation time, so I could come visit at some point."

There was something about that she didn't like. "Do you actually work for the evil lawyers? I don't understand how this all goes."

"I work for Angel Investigations, but the money they're paying me with comes from Wolfram & Hart." He shook his head. "I won't lie; it's not a great situation and I think Angel may have made a terrible mistake agreeing to take over the firm."

"How bad a mistake?"

He looked down at her. "Could be apocalyptically bad. They've got something up their sleeve; look at the whole bit with the amulet. Plus, they're being a little _too_ friendly with me ever since they got over their disappointment at the fact I was the one with the Shanshu and not Angel. Got me papers, made me exist in the system with an ease that's pretty damn frightening, found me a great rent-controlled apartment, made sure I went shopping -- and we're not talking Wal-Mart. It's like they're trying to woo me to their side and I want to know why."

One apocalypse down; onto the next one. That normal life she'd been thinking of suddenly seemed further away.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, some of it light, most of it serious. Most of it about Angel. Part of Buffy's mind couldn't help thinking that Spike had found himself in the cycle she'd known in Sunnydale: slow summer with a new problem appearing in the fall. When she got back to Cleveland, would she find the same thing? But it felt strange to be sitting near the ocean in the bright September sun -- still warm in Santa Monica, while the first nip in the air had appeared in Cleveland -- with her former enemy/still ally/former sex partner/current friend/maybe future lover talking about a vampire who was her first lover and his...grandfather? Every other time she'd heard Spike mention Angel, it'd been insults and snides meant to show enmity and cover hurts. The caricature taped to the punching bag was a classic.

There were a few snides relating to Angel's intelligence in getting involved in the deal in the first place, but there was also a genuine concern that the older vampire had gotten himself in over his head. It wasn't a sudden rush of love and affection, but more a worry that Angel was endangering his soul.

That was why he was here, she realized. Not just back in the land of the living, but _here_ in Los Angeles. He was needed with Angel Investigations, needed with Angel.

And the work would be a hell of a lot easier if she wasn't there, a constant sore point between the two men. Angel had grown used to her absence; would Spike do the same?

It was that thought that made her suggest they walk, wanting to move, hoping to distract herself. Take-away cartons disposed of, blanket draped over Spike's arm, they strolled along the path that led to the pier, then onto the pier itself. Standing at the end, leaning on the railing and looking out over the Pacific Ocean, Spike said, "We don't belong to ourselves, do we?"

Buffy shook her head. "I wonder if we ever have. That Mom would pick Sunnydale to move to instead of Santa Barbara liked she'd originally talked about."

"That I'd talk to the woman who accosted me in the alley that night instead of skedaddling like I normally would."

"Skedaddling? Is that a word?"

"Used to be. Point is, I didn't move and became a vampire."

She thought about all they'd been through, everything that had brought them to this moment. "Have we been herded in this direction?"

Spike snorted. "I'd prefer to think not; otherwise, we're completely buggered. But there is something at work; I can't deny that. Just like to think we might have some say in the matter."

Buffy let her hand slide down the rail to cover his. "You could say 'no' to destiny and come back to Cleveland with me."

He shifted, turning to face her though his hand didn't move from beneath hers. "If we're going to say 'no' to destiny, why not run away together? See the world. Lie on sandy beaches and send postcards back to those who are freezing their asses off while holding down Cleveland?"

It was tempting and she knew that if she agreed, he'd leave Los Angeles behind in a minute to go with her.

But there was Dawn. And Giles. And any number of girls who didn't understand this power they possessed. She'd turned it loose on them; she had a responsibility. "I can't."

He understood; she could see it in his eyes. "Then you know why I have to stay," he said gently, reaching out to run stroke her cheek.

"Dawn's going to be furious. She wants to see you."

"Bring her out to Disneyland and the three of us will go."

Buffy made a face. "She'll remind you she's seventeen and not a child."

"You haven't seen Disneyland lately, luv. California Adventure, Downtown Disney...evil lawyers hosted their annual 'do' there last month, closed off to the public and employees only. Since it was at night and a company function, Angel had to show up. Great fun watching him being loaded into a car for the Matterhorn."

She wanted to laugh and cry at the same moment. It felt good to see him this way, full of life and purpose...even if it was to make Angel's existence uncomfortable. But it hurt to know she couldn't share it with him.

His expression changed as he looked at her, a sudden sadness before he dipped his head to kiss her. She could feel every ounce of love he felt for her in that kiss and tried to give him all her own in return.

When they both came up for air (still strange to think of Spike needing to breathe), they rested their foreheads against each other, taking what comfort they could in each other's touch. "Maybe one day the prophecies will have us in the same place," she suggested.

"Maybe. Or maybe we'll figure out how to write our own."

He drew her closer and they stood together at the end of the pier, watching as the sun began to sink below the horizon, turning the waters a fiery orange.

They were both still baking.


End file.
